


If heart to heart be found together

by fangrrlsing (Niwidu)



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, The Three Musketeers (2011), Young Blades (2001)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha Rochefort, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega d'Artagnan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15139742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niwidu/pseuds/fangrrlsing
Summary: “You!” is all he can think to say, full of indignation and longing and anger.Rochefort looks just as surprised. “D’Artagnan.” They scrutinize each other warily, then- “I hadn’t expected to see you again.”ORSo test therefore who join forever- at least that was the plan, but things hardly ever go according to plan for d’Artagnan.





	If heart to heart be found together

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in over a year? Check.  
> First Hannibal Extended Universe? Check.  
> First Omegaverse? Check.  
> First entry for a fest? Check.
> 
> So bear with me, it's all still a bit rusty. But SummertimeSlick motivated me, so I'm back in the saddle with some accidental bonding! (Does it count if the bonding happened offscreen?)
> 
> The title is a verse out of Friedrich Schiller's _Song of the Bell_ (also known as _The Lay of the Bell_ ) and so is "So test therefore who join forever". The two verses actually belong together but in different order: So test therefore who join forever / If heart to heart be found together!  
> That knowledge is not necessary for the story but just in case someone wondered: I found it fitting (and ironic).
> 
> Thanks to the different timelines in both movies and the fact that both don't care about historical events, this fic is definitely not historically accurate. It is vaguely set after the first fall-out between king Ludwig XIII and his mother and I'm going to pretend- as Yong Blades did- that the musketeers already existed then.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of this mess, so you're free to leave a comment or visit me on [Tumblr](https://fangrrlsing.tumblr.com).

D’Artagnan blinks stunned at the man before him. His whole body is singing, pleading to be near the other man. The alpha stands tall and commanding in front of him and his horse. His clothing is extravagant, pretentious even, and he looks rougher than the last time they met. A scar right next to his eye talks of a close fight. He is still as breathtaking as he remembers.

He hadn’t thought he would ever see him again. The impulse to fall to his knees before him and beg him to never leave again like that struggles with his desire to hit the man, to curse him to Spain so he never has to see him again.

“You!” is all he can think to say, full of indignation and longing and anger.

Rochefort looks just as surprised. “D’Artagnan.” They scrutinize each other warily, then- “I hadn’t expected to see you again.”

Anger wins at that and d’Artagnan scoffs. “And why should you? You did your best to avoid that.”

“I- I had no choice,” Rochefort tries to placate him, needing to defend himself even when caught unawares. “I had to leave. Urgently, you...” 

D’Artagnan interrupts him, voice rising steadily, uncaring for any potential audience. “No. You’re a coward, that’s what you are! What hindered you at leaving a note for me? Was the night not satisfactory? Because it surely seemed so as you knotted me for hours!”

Now it’s Rochefort’s turn to sneer. “You’re exaggerating. I knotted you as long as is normal. And keep your voice down before someone comes looking for the noise.”

“Is that so? Because I remember falling asleep with a knot up my ass and an alpha at my back and waking up with said alpha long gone! But I guess I was indeed satisfying enough since you so graciously paid for the room,” d’Artagnan bites back, grabbing the mane of his horse as support. He ignores the comment about the noise completely.

Rochefort regards him silently until d’Artagnan starts fidgeting. “You are still hurt that I had to leave.”

“No,” d’Artagnan snarls. “I’m still hurt that you led me on. You made me hope that I might have found an alpha who was worthy of me because he would let me be myself. An alpha I could bond with.” He stops, embarrassed and surprised over his own admission, before throwing caution to the wind, stepping in Rochefort’s space and taking him by the lapels. “But you just wanted to fuck a virgin, isn’t that right?” He stares into those intense eyes, glowing amber in the setting sun. They were so warm and inviting in the dim candlelight, urging him on to talk about his hopes and dreams after he snuck out of his father’s mansion for the first time. 

 

He was ecstatic when he met an attentive and considerate alpha, proving his overbearing parents wrong who wanted to hide him from the world, their precious omega. Rochefort was older than d’Artagnan by nearly a decade and lived his life how d’Artagnan wanted to live his own. He told exciting stories of all the countries and cities he visited, the different people he met and worked with, the wonders he had seen. 

And he asked about d’Artagnan’s life, encouraged him to talk about his ambitions. He promised him to train him in swordfight so he could become a musketeer. He admired him about his skills, his wit before he complimented his beauty. Rochefort was an alpha who didn’t pressure d’Artagnan into bed, who had to _be_ pressured in a way. He worried if d’Artagnan really wanted to spend the night with him, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming him. He was the alpha d’Artagnan always dreamt of. 

He had felt so safe to fall asleep then, eager for the next morning to arrive. Maybe Rochefort would start making good on his word and fence with him. They would talk some more. He would try to persuade Rochefort to take him along to Paris. Rochefort would surely ask that they bond and if he could claim d’Artagnan. Maybe d’Artagnan would ask of him to wait with the claiming until he was ready for kids- the first heat after a successful claiming is meant to be one of the most fertile ones and he would want to make use of that when the time would be right. But they could already bond, forming a tentative connection and making clear that they intended to stay together forever. 

This night he dreamt of their life together, how they would achieve their dreams, start a family. He dreamt of his parents’ faces when he would finally come back home, an accomplished musketeer with a handsome, strong mate and possibly one or two kids in tow. 

How bitter was the realization when he woke up to an empty room, Rochefort’s clothes gone from the ground and no note to be found. The bartender could only tell him that the room was paid for in full and that the man who did so left in the early morning. He left no message. 

When he got home his mother was worse than ever, coddling him and never letting him out of her side for many weeks. His father berated him for being a stupid boy and what if some alpha had taken advantage of him? D’Artagnan didn’t tell them what happened but he was more determined than ever to prove his parents, to prove the whole world that omegas could be strong fighters too.

 

He started training religiously and then he proved the world wrong. Even the king knows what d’Artagnan, an omega, is capable of. After the fall-out between the king and his mother, the time is finally right to take his place as a trusted musketeer. And now at the first stop of his journey to Paris he meets the alpha again who promised to help him achieve all that and who broke that promise not even a night later. The alpha he can’t seem to let go, after given the chance to grab him again, and whose face is impossibly close. He just needs to lean forward slightly and he could kiss him again. 

D’Artagnan stops short, already feeling Rochefort’s every breath on his face. No. _No._ They couldn’t have bonded, could they? Sure, at the time he had entertained the idea of bonding Rochefort after they had _more time to know each other_. And sure, later in bed he had felt like he had finally found the missing piece of his soul he never missed before. Of course, upon his return he had been especially moody, nothing ever to his satisfaction unless he could swing a sword and imagine Rochefort’s critical eyes on him, advice whispered in his ear. 

But that was because he had been so angry that he let himself be deceived by the first alpha who showed an interest in him. It had nothing to do with the fact that they _understood_ each other and that he was ready to trust Rochefort unconditionally and that he felt a kinship with him. Though it would explain why he never went to see Radegonde, why he never felt he was the man she deserved: because he was bonded, taken, deeply connected with someone else.

“D’Artagnan.” Rochefort’s husky voice penetrates his thoughts, lifting the fog that rendered him immobile.

He lets go hastily, taking several steps back to be safe. Every step goes against his instincts’ screaming to run back into his alpha’s arms and never letting him go again. To officially claim him. How was he able to overlook this?

D’Artagnan expects to be mocked by Rochefort but he only smiles wistfully. “Maybe we should drink something together, talk.”

D’Artagnan stubbornly crosses his arms, eyes avoiding the alpha.

Rochefort extends his hand and swallows. “Please.”

 _You’re too easy_ , d’Artagnan berates himself while he takes the offered hand. He wants to go with Rochefort but a snort reminds him of his companion. “I need to bring my horse to the stable.”

“But of course. I’ll accompany you.”

D’Artagnan giggles. “You want to make sure that I won’t run out on you.”

Rochefort grins, half shrugging, half nodding, and leads him to the stable.

 

“So, what you say is,” d’Artagnan gulps the rest of his wine down and continues incredulously, “that you were afraid to commit to a possible mate and that’s why you ran? I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s true.” Rochefort leans intently across the table, trying to catch d’Artagnan’s eyes. “I felt I wasn’t ready for one and you were everything I could wish for. I didn’t realize it was already too late.”

D’Artagnan laughs. “Well, it is your own fault then. Though it interests me: when exactly _did_ you realize what happened after you knotted me so well that we bonded without intent?”

Embarrassed, Rochefort studies the markings in the tabletop. “I assume the same time you did.”

D’Artagnan stares in surprise and then can’t help teasing him. “Aren’t alphas supposed to know immediately when they’re bonded? Hm? So they never lose sight of their omega over the connection?”

Colour flushes high on Rochefort’s cheekbones. “I wasn’t bonded before so how should I be able to name that feeling? Also, I didn’t attempt to knot anyone else so I couldn’t have recognized it through that.” He thinks for a moment and adds as an afterthought, “And you should have known during your heat.”

“I haven’t had a heat since our bonding,” d’Artagnan shoots back. He was always glad for his long cycle, even more so now. A heat without his bonded alpha would have been worse than fighting a losing battle in the front line against Spain. Rochefort seems skeptical and, insistent, he slams his hand on the table. 

Something mashed quills between his fingers and he lifts it from his plate, disgusted. 

Grinning, Rochefort hands him a handkerchief with his initials. “If you didn’t like the food, you could have just said so.”

D’Artagnan bares his teeth and takes the handkerchief. “All I need is another round.”

 

Many mugs later, d’Artagnan is in the middle of the recounting of his time with Radegonde, Aramis, Athos and Porthos, his cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling. He looks quite endearing and Rochefort gazes at him enamored.

“…In short, I prevented a war with Spain!” d’Artagnan concludes with a puffed out chest, looking at Rochefort for approval.

And his heart swells when Rochefort remarks proudly- “You really did it, hm? Purchased your dreams and needed no help from an alpha.” He gazes hungrily at the omega who licks his _pink, soft_ lips and ducks his head, red splotches high on his cheeks.

“No,” agrees d’Artagnan breathlessly. “And now I’ll become a musketeer.”

“You’re on your way to Paris?” Rochefort drinks a mouthful, his throat dry at the possibility to get a second chance at what he oh so carelessly threw away. “How fortunate that I’m headed there myself.” 

“Is that so?” d’Artagnan asks seductively, leaning forward and letting his fingertips flutter over sharp cheekbones. The skin is soft under the rough stubble. He shudders in delight, thinking about feeling that on the rest of his body. “And what will you do there?”

“I’m afraid we will be fighting on different sides.” Rochefort’s voice is like silk that wraps around d’Artagnan with promises of a fulfilled, joyous future. 

It makes it hard to concentrate for d’Artagnan, managing to whisper, “And why might that be? You plan to become a criminal?”

Rochefort smirks and says teasingly, “You, a striking musketeer. Me, part of the corrupt cardinal’s guard... Your fellow musketeers won’t be thrilled by it. It could become quite the steamy affair.”

Eyes comically wide, d’Artagnan holds his hand mockingly to his mouth. “And what should we do about that?”

Rochfort’s grin suggests exactly what they should do. “I’ll leave that decision in your capable hands.” He takes the hand that just touched his cheek and presses little kisses on the fingertips. D’Artagnan watches him speechless, his breath quickening, eyes transfixed on the gesture. Images appear in his mind, unbidden, of all the ways the night could end.

He sits up straight, his heated gaze heavy on Rochefort. “We should retire for the evening. We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.” 

It’s probably not the best idea, after all the drinks they had, but he can’t help it. He wants to be near the other, the bond between them thrumming and alive.

Rochefort swallows, his voice hoarse when he answers, “I already booked a room.”

“Good,” d’Artagnan murmurs, letting a finger rest on Rochefort’s lips. He can’t wait to finally feel them again. “But about you joining the cardinal’s guard- we will have to talk about that again.”

Rochefort wets his lips with his tongue, touching d’Artagnan’s finger and observing delightedly how his pupils dilate. “Whatever you wish, _Charles_.”

 

D’Artagnan awakes to sunlight filling the room and a muscular body warming his back. He can’t resent himself that he evidently made the same mistake again, not when he slept so soundly after having his hunger sated so thoroughly. His neck itches where Rochefort will bite him if he allows him to claim him- though that won’t happen as long as he’s still angry that Rochefort left the first night. _He stayed this time._ Even though Rochefort knew what awaited him, he still chose to stay. 

Satisfaction fills d’Artagnan and the part of him that always felt hollow and discontented is filled with joy and affection. No, they won’t complete the bond for the forseeable future- Rochefort has to do more to earn this right, has to court him properly. And the other plan still stands too: he needs to become a proper musketeer first, before he will be ready for children. 

But they can at least travel the rest of the way together. And if they share a room at every inn they stay in- well it saves money and keeps the bed warm. And maybe it is not so bad to wake up next to someone whose contentment you can feel in your bones. Maybe.

Definitely.


End file.
